


feel it coasting

by princessprouvaire



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Flint owns a bookshop, Fluff, Funny, John Silver Has Glittery Abs, M/M, Pride, Pride Festival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessprouvaire/pseuds/princessprouvaire
Summary: In which James "I'm Not Actually A Dad, No Really" Flint attends Pride, new friends are made, and Eleanor makes an attempt to match make. (tags to be added as the story goes on!) ((I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS, I PROMISE, SHIT WILL BE COMING I PROMISE OKAY?))





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> this was literally all just inspired by the idea that modern James Flint would be offended if anyone assumed he was a heterosexual 
> 
> (it's also my first proper Black Sails fic, and my first published fic in years, so feedback and comments are appreciated!)

"Oh for gods sake, just go and grab one would you?"

James blinked back at her across the table, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"Beg your pardon?"

Eleanor sighed and backed out of her chair. Before he could say another word, she was halfway towards the counter, picking up a brightly coloured leaflet underneath an equally brightly coloured poster with 'PRIDE 2017' emblazoned across in wide letters.

"There. Happy now?" she said, sliding the leaflet across the coffee table. "I've seen you eyeballing it the last few days, give over." He flipped the leaflet over and read through the flashy list of performers and artists. James snorted.

“Never heard of any of these. You think they’d at least get a few famous faces in these days.”

“They _are_ famous. Just because some people like to hermit themselves away with the albums of dead rock stars, doesn’t mean the rest of the gay community remains pop culture illiterate.” She gave James a very pointed look and took a sip of her latte. “You could just ask me, you know. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what? I am _not_!” James had the decency to look indignant.

“Oh, come on. This is where you say something like, _‘Eleanor, my pal, whom I love so dearly, would you do the delight of accompanying me to my first Pride festival this decade, in a truly honourable showing of gay-bisexual solidarity?’_ and then take hold of my hand and promise to pay for lunch tomorrow.”

“This is where I do no such fucking thing, actually.” He drank his coffee in heavy silence for a moment. “Would you actually though?" he asked. "Go with me, I mean. In a showing of...whatever you called it. Solidarity.” He paused, deciding to switch tactics. “I mean, really, I’d be going for you. You know, you’ve never done one of these before, you don’t know what to expec-”

“Flint, shut the fuck up.” Eleanor said, reaching over to his coffee cup and smoothing her thumb over his knuckles. “Of course, I’d love to go with you. It’ll be fun. We can drink, and dance, and not give a single fuck about anything or anyone. I get it, really.”

He returned her understanding smile just as her phone began to beep. “God, that late already? I’ve got a video conference this afternoon with some suppliers, joy of joys. Text me later though if you think any more on it, yeah?”

“Will do. I should go and relieve Billy, anyway. Poor sod’s been alone in the shop since 10, I had to come straight here from a chat with Gates about some estates maintenance bullshit.” James downed the rest of his coffee, grabbed his bag, and kissed Eleanor on the cheek. “I’ll think about all...that.” he said, waving dismissively at the bright display besides the counter as he left.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t even as if he was that hesitant to go in all honesty, James thought to himself on his walk back from the coffee shop where he spent most of his lunch breaks scrolling through news articles, sketching in his journal, or meeting up with Eleanor. He’d seen enough of these recent Pride festivals online, and he knew that nowadays they were over-commercialised, over-policed, and much too crowded for his general liking. Yet, he’d also seen them become more inclusive, more family friendly, with more things to do throughout the years. He still wasn’t sure where a single, older man like himself would fit in alone, but with a friend...well, he could bear that. Enjoy it, even.

He was worried about weighing Eleanor down though. She was young, single, pretty, and didn't need him looming over her shoulder if she found the opportunity to start flirting with somebody. James was keen to give her the chance to do so, had encouraged her to meet new people and start dating again, especially as he knew she tended to fall back into old, bad, tanned and overly-muscular habits. Luckily, Eleanor had explained to him that Charles had disappeared off to South Africa a few weeks ago after another hate-sex session, putting him back in her bad books, while also giving James a window of opportunity. James had taken to pointing out pretty girls in the coffee shop, but Eleanor hadn’t taken the bait yet. He’d even mentioned Billy in passing, but she’d bristled at that, oddly.  
  
The bell above the door jangled with familiarity as he stepped into the shop, side stepping a tower of boxes and throwing a bagged chocolate muffin onto the counter.  
  
“I see the latest delivery came in, at least. Been busy?”  
  
Billy nodded, mouth already full of muffin. “Mm-hmm. ‘usy. ‘oodens mos’l- sorry. Students mostly.” He swallowed the cake down and jerked his thumb to a pile of books besides the counter. “Lots of books being dropped in, end of school year, that sort of thing. Got about halfway through sorting these ones out, shelved some. Plenty browsed though, too. Bought paperbacks and the like. Good lunch?”  
  
“Great, I’ll plow through those this afternoon then. And yeah, it was alright. El’s the usual.” Flint hung his jacket and bag over the chair Billy was still currently sat in. “Tell me, Billy, what do you think of Pride?”  
  
“Pride? As in, Pride-Pride? Err, it’s alright, I guess? Never been myself, got a few mates who do though. Sounds like a laugh, if you’re into that sort of thing. My mates all love it, but they’re typical lads my age, anything with drinks, rhythm, and the possibility of a shag. Why, you thinking of doing something for it? I know the parade doesn’t go down this side of town, but it would be nice to put up a few posters, I dunno, make a display with gay literature maybe? If that’s what you’re thinking?”  
  
James grunted in agreement. “Could work, I suppose. Might be nice. But no, I was more thinking...” He paused for a moment, trying to find the words to appear casual enough. “Well, I was thinking of going myself. With Eleanor, actually. You don’t think I’d be too...”  
  
“Old?” Billy oh-so-helpfully supplied. James shot him a glare that made him turn rather sheepish.  
  
“I was going to say something like ‘unused to the party atmosphere’, but whatever.” He leaned over the counter to claim back what was left of the muffin while Billy made a noise of protest. “...Old?” he asked scathingly.  
  
“I mean, not _old_ , but like..." He retracted nervously, eyes blown wide. "Older than the guys I know that go, I think half of them like to call themselves ‘twinks’, I just meant, like you said...party atmosphere and all that...I should get going, really.” he stumbled, grabbing his jacket and the paperback he’d been reading. “Look, I think going to Pride would be a brilliant idea, honestly.” He turned in the doorway to regard James. “Loads of different people go! You and Eleanor would have a great time. DeGroot will still be in Cornwall, so I’ll cover the shop, and you can go and have fun. Alright?”

He paused, thinking over the offer.

“Hm. Alright. I mean, if you’re sure you’re alright to cover…” James tried not to appear over-eager, but Billy knew him well enough to know that he was hiding his excitement at the idea. “I think that gay literature display might be a good idea, too. I’ll leave some out for you to put in the window tomorrow.” 

Billy gave him a wide smile. “Sounds good! I’ll get my arts and crafts out, cut out some rainbows. See you!”

James gave him a wave as he left, and reclaimed his favourite chair behind the sales counter. Billy had come in asking for summer work while he was still at school, and had started working weekends and extra shifts with James as he grew older. Now, working as a contracted builder, James thought it strange that he had chosen to keep his part time work at the second hand bookshop rather than take on more clients, especially as the two roles seemed rather at odds. But they had fallen into an easy friendship, despite being quite dissimilar. Billy enjoyed reading, but he preferred military action paperbacks and modern crime thrillers to James’ classic volumes. He’d try to tell James about the latest console games he had been playing in his spare time, or the rugby matches that he had so far only managed to drag him along to two of, and James would listen with vague amusement and little comprehension. Between them and DeGroot, a man older than himself who James had hired not long after opening the shop, they made up the staff at Calypso Books, his passion project after moving to the area.

Six o’clock came sooner than expected, and James hadn’t quite finished sifting through the latest additions when he saw the clock on the wall and decided to lock up the front of the shop. He lived in the little flat on the upper floor of the building, and he found that confining the majority of his time to the two small floors suited him just fine. It gave him enough space to maneuver on his own, he had a radio down in the shop and a record player in his living room, a desk upstairs too for daily accounts, a personal bookshelf away from the public, and a kitchen big enough for him to cook for pleasure and friends, as well as necessity. The building had a lot of original features, unendlessly creaky floorboards  and wooden beams throughout, that required upkeep and attention, but James saw to it mostly himself (with the occasional expertise from Billy). He made a cup of tea before sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop. He had decided that if he was going to follow through with this whole Pride plan, and he _did_ want to, then he should do a little research first. 

He found a listing of events for the weekend. Art exhibitions, comedy nights, even a goddamn pottery class. James was impressed, and messaged the link to Eleanor. “Fancy pottery?” he typed out. It was encouraging to think that there would be people attending Pride who would be interested in the actual events and history, rather than just the friends Billy had described looking for a drink and a shag. He would be fine. Really.

 

* * *

 

 "And you’re sure you’ll be alright?“

Despite being nowhere near the central parade in town, more people than usual were milling around Calypso and the street outside. James saw people heading in the direction of the party, happy and smiling and holding hands, and it made him feel lighter inside. His anticipation throughout the week leading up to it had relaxed bit by bit, and he had found himself going to bed last night looking forward to the day ahead.

It was still early in the day, and the shop hadn’t been open long, so the large handful of customers they had already gained were spread throughout the shop, browsing. Some had been drawn in by the display in the front window which Billy had creatively draped with rainbow flags and streamers, and displayed various books next to small signs explaining how they celebrated LGBT narratives. 

“James, don’t worry, honestly. Busy is something I can handle. I’m all set here, you just worry about having fun, alright? I’ve got supplies, I’ll be fine.“ Billy gave him a grin and waved a slightly ridiculous looking lunchbox in the air. James eyed him warily as he fiddled with his collar. "Oh, stop fussing will you? You look fine. You polish up well, okay? Look, she'll tell you!"

James turned around to see Eleanor tapping on the front window of the shop, waving from behind the curtain of streamers. He beckoned at her to come inside.

"Hey! It's already getting pretty lively out there, think we're doing well to try and get a spot so...early..." She frowned at James, scrunching up a face covered in paints and glitter. She wore purple shorts, a black crop top with a heart in the colours of the bisexual pride flag, and an oversized flower crown. In comparison, James was dressed rather modestly in a navy Henley and jeans, with a small rainbow badge pinned to his chest. "You're...going like that?"

"The fuck do you mean _'am I going like that'?_ " James snapped back. "There's nothing wrong with this, at all, I'm sorry if I'm not wearing enough fucking... _whistles and bells_ for your liking.." He waved his hand in the direction of the face glitter and flower crown.

Eleanor scoffed and turned to Billy.

"Is he going to play up like this all day, do you think? Would you mind awfully if I just tied him to a float and left him there?"

"I'm good to work the rest of the weekend, and DeGroot gets back from Cornwall on Monday, so feel free." Billy joked.

James gave his traitor an offended look before turning around to give Eleanor a whack on the arm. She tutted at him.

" _Killjoy_. C'mon, all you need is some of this, and you'll be fine!" She pulled a hipflask out of her handbag and wiggled it under his nose. He gave a startled laugh, watching as she took a sip and pulled a grimace. 

"Eleanor, it's not even ten!" James said, voice full of fake horror, but his face had begun to relax. He grabbed the hipflask from her anyway and took a swig, giving her a grin and a wink as he handed it back. She reached up on tiptoes to ruffle the rust coloured nest of hair.

"Good man. Now, let's get started, shall we?"

 


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride happens, accidents and accidental encounters happen, and James Flint tries to be a good person. Kind of.

"I bet he's freezing his balls off in that!"

James indicated towards a young man wearing a small leather thong and a sombrero, holding a can of beer in one hand, and the hand of another man in slightly more leather in the other. Eleanor gave a laugh, managing to sound practically musical, her voice threaded with happiness. 

"It's summer, I'm sure he's just fine!"

"Ah yes, of course. Always trust in the fabulous British summer. It's due to pour down later, reckon he knows?"

As they walked closer to the throng of energy in the city center, they spotted more and more revelers heading in the same direction. Placards and costumes became more prevalent, and they pointed people out to each other while they continued towards the party.  

"I say we go and stand up on Riverside, outside the pub, it'll be a good place to chill for a bit before the actual parade." Eleanor squinted down at her phone, looking at a map of the parade route. "People are going to queue up on High Street, I reckon, so it'll be a bit less busy down by the river."

"Sounds good."

James looked around at the people surrounding them. It filled him with such joy to see so many people celebrating without shame, supporting each other and loving so relentlessly and being themselves. Moving to the area all those years ago had been a fresh start, when he had no connections to this place, and nobody to question or judge him. So he had chosen to live openly, but quietly, peacefully. That was what this place had become to him, after all, peace. But he'd come to know people as time went on. He met friends through the shop, and even people he'd never spoken to properly knew that the man who owned the small bookshop kept himself to himself, but was a nice enough gentleman. They would nod at him as he went about his business, he'd exchange pleasantries in shops and the like. With the people he kept as friends and acquaintances, he felt no need to hide who he was, and had so far met no resistance or opposition to his sexuality. Sometimes it stunned him to think how much things had progressed in his lifetime. 

"Aren't they adorable?" Eleanor nudged him to look at a chain of two young mothers wearing rainbow beaded necklaces, with three toddlers in bright sunhats and dresses waddling between them, all holding hands. The women saw them watching and waved at them, and the small, chubby hands of their babies followed with toothy grins. James barked a laugh and waved back.

"Do you ever think about it?" Eleanor asked him, with a slightly wistful look in her eye.

"About...?" he replied, although he had a feeling he knew exactly what he was about to be asked.

"You know. If you found someone, and settled down, would you consider it?" She nudged him, and he avoided her eye. "You'd make a great dad, you know."

James gave a non-committal grunt.

"I think it's a nice idea, for the right people. But you didn't bring me here to ask me about fatherhood, you brought me here to drink with you. So..." He grabbed her by the elbow and made a bee-line for a set of busy street food stalls, brimming with Pride attendees. 

* * *

 

One hot dog and two frozen margaritas each later (both of them watermelon for Eleanor, with classic and blackberry for James), and the parade was about to begin. They had made their way to a relatively quiet spot in front of a pub, next to the road near the end of the parade. The crowds gathering had gotten livelier, and Eleanor had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get James to dance with her to some garbled pop hit playing over speakers to the street. His resilience had broken down to the point where he had taken her hand and was currently letting her spin underneath his raised arm, when she stopped dead and looked over his shoulder.

"Bollocks!" she hissed, and grabbed James to stand in front of her. He looked behind himself, but failed to see any issue.

"What..." he tried to ask, but she was already digging back in her handbag for the flask.

"Okay, so..." she surreptitiously leaned up to his ear and whispered loud enough to hear over the thumping bass of the music. "See the girl over there? In the crown? On the bench?"

He took a second look, and this time noticed a dark haired young woman in a theatrical golden crown, sat sideways on a bench, legs entangled with another woman, who lay half in the lap of a slim man. James nodded, curious.

" _Max_ " she all but mouthed. "and, I'm assuming, Max's latest girl." She nodded quickly at the other woman, whose red hair was currently tangled around the fingers of the man next to her.

"You sure?" James asked, slightly baffled. He watched Eleanor's face morph into one of horror, and then in a second it was gone, replaced by a forced grin. 

"I was sure it was you!" said a lilting voice from behind him. The woman came into full view, and even James was taken aback by her sheer beauty. He had only ever heard about her through Eleanor, never met her in person, and while he had been told volumes about her features, golden skin, tumbling hair, all of these deity-like qualities, he'd assumed it was exaggeration through Eleanor's rose tinted glasses at the time. An assumption that was now proving false.

He noted Eleanor's put-on politeness as they made small talk, and gave Max a brief smile when she looked towards him. He was met with a sudden coldness as she plainly looked him up and down, before turning back to Eleanor without a word to him.

"So...how are you enjoying the celebrations?" she asked, lips pursing tightly afterwards. Eleanor began to look slightly awkward.

"It's great! Lots of fun! We were just, I mean me and James were just..." she began to babble. 

"You and James?" Max exclaimed, looking between them both. Her male companion mimicked her bewilderment for a moment, while the other woman simply raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, this is my friend James. James Flint. Runs the bookshop around the corner from my office." she offered as an explanation. Max's expression eased, and she gave James a soft grin.

"My apologies. I should have began introductions sooner. Please, meet my partner, Anne, and her partner, Jack."

The woman with the long red hair tucked underneath a snapback, Anne, nodded her head in recognition. The man named Jack extended a hand towards James and bared his teeth.

"James Flint, who does not happen to be, in fact, Mr. Guthrie Senior. Nice to meet you." He gave James a firm handshake, before turning to meet Max's glare. His sharp grin wilted under her gaze. 

"Beg your pardon?" James asked, eyes flitting between the two newcomers.  Max gave a heavy sigh.

"I made an incorrect assumption about your identity, Mr Flint. Eleanor told me plenty about her father, but I never had opportunity to meet the man, and so..." she gestured up and down his body. "I thought that perhaps the man himself had seen the error of his ways and had decided to support the openness of his only child. I see I was wrong. It is nice to see somebody on her side, though. I did not mean to offend."

"I'd say no offense taken, but I _have_ met Guthrie, so..." James chuckled. 

"Hold on, the bookshop? Not Calypso?" Jack inquired. When James confirmed it, Jack's eyes widened in recognition. "Of _course_. I've only ever seen the large, muscular one when I go in, but naturally I'd heard of Flint himself. You're the man I have to thank for holding the largest collection of Greek reference texts in the city, I see." He waggled an eyebrow at James, who took the opportunity to take in the man's outfit. He wore a smart looking white shirt and tight trousers, expensive looking shoes, an outfit that could have happily walked into most high-rise offices if not for the multiple brightly coloured beaded necklaces sat on his chest. The girls stood by them, happily chatting. "So, you've come as an ally then?" He nodded towards the little badge pinned to James' shirt.

"Erm, not quite...we've, uh, come together. But, not _together_ together. I'm gay." He tapped the badge lightly, as a reminder. Jack let out a noise of approval. 

" _Quelle surprise_. You've certainly come dressed more low-key than my friend here." He flicked up a corner of the golden silky cape cascading down from Max's shoulder, earning himself a slap on the arm from the woman. Eleanor tapped James on the shoulder and pointed towards the road, where the first of the floats were coming around the corner, then she cheered along with the rest of the crowd. James laughed at her unbridled enthusiasm. 

"C'mon! The louder we cheer, the more freebies we might get!" she shouted over the noise, watching people on the floats throwing all manner of rainbow-covered goods into the busy streets.

"Capitalism at its bloody finest!" he heard Jack scoff in the direction of his ear. They watched a float covered with the branding of a popular coffee company. "If anyone really thinks that any of these rich, corrupted CEO bastards sit in their ivory towers crying their hearts out over queer rights, then they deserve to choke on their sugary, pastel lattes, frankly." 

They watched as more floats went by, representing various factions being represented, entertainers and musicians rolling through the streets, full of joy. A drag queen called out to Max, pointing out her crown and cape to others on the float, who swarmed to the side to blow kisses to the woman. A feather boa was thrown out to her, and she wrapped it around Anne's neck with a kiss on the cheek. The woman's face split into a grin as she was kissed, and James was surprised to see even a slight blush creep over her face. He couldn't tell if these people were just naturally flocking towards Max, or whether she genuinely knew some of them, but she received attention from many other floats on the parade too. It certainly seemed like she had connections with at least a few people performing. A float had gone by filled with men and women dressed in corsets and garters, and a dark haired woman with painted lips had reached out to touch Max's hand.

"I'll catch up with you later, love!" she had yelled over the commotion. 

"You look wonderful, Idelle!" Max had shouted back.

Not long afterwards, she gently grabbed ahold of Eleanor's shoulder. "I promised Idelle that I would see her when she finished the parade, but it's been so nice to see you again. Maybe we can catch up with you both later on?" She wrapped her up in a warm hug before turning to James and kissing him on the cheek. "It was lovely to meet you, James. I hope we'll be seeing you again!"

Jack clapped him on the back and promised to ask for him next time he was in the shop. They slinked away into the crowd with Anne in tow.

"So. That was Max. The Max." James remarked, leaning in close to Eleanor. She scoffed.

"Yes, _The_ Max. It's strange, I suppose, but then it's been what, two years now?" she mused. "I mean, she would definitely have reason to want to avoid me, but...she's happy. Which is nice. She always did deserve it."

"So do you." He met her eyes and gave her a sincere look. Neither of them were good at talking about their emotions, and they would both admit it. This was in part why their friendship had grown so close, they related to each other with jokes, snarky remarks, rolling out the details of their day at work and making petty jabs about customers. They were so similar in their ways. Only on rare occasion would they talk about their feelings with seriousness. Eleanor squirmed next to him.

"It's not as if I've not been thinking about it. Looking for someone actually nice. You keep telling me, but I _know_ I need to move past Charles-"

"Don't get me started on him." 

" _Enough_. What about you, anyway?" She nudged him with a pointy elbow. "You're telling me you've not been keeping an eye out for some proper gentleman for yourself? You've been alone much too long, James."

He scoffed. She very rarely brought this up, and he was usually able to deflect her line of questioning, but in all honesty...she was right. Eleanor was the only person he'd told about his dating history since moving to the area. She was the only one who knew how long it had been since he had been in a committed relationship, and the only one who knew why his history had made him hesitant to talk to new men. Sure, he'd been on a few dates here and there, and he'd had someone warming his bed as recently as...well, almost two years ago now. So maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see Eleanor's point. 

"Where on Earth do you suggest I start meeting 'proper gentlemen' then? Here?" He motioned to one of the final floats passing by them. A dozen or so young men in tiny shorts with glitter on their thighs were distributing flyers for an after party at a local gay bar. "Jesus Christ, I've got slippers older than some of them!" 

"There are plenty of men in your age range around here, you're just not looking. Besides, you've got the cafe, the shop...there's lots of places you could meet men like you."

 _Ahh, yes, the shop._ Because hitting on his own customers would do James a world of good. Although...

"How much did you talk to Max?" He interrupted. Eleanor looked baffled for a moment. "About her and Anne. Is that a thing, then?"

"Yes? Why?" She narrowed her eyes. 

"So, Anne isn't with that man then? Jack?"

"Well, that's the thing, yes she is. They have something worked out between the lot of them, I don't really understand it, but they all seem perfectly happy."

"Ah. Right." 

Eleanor looked over to see James twiddling with his shirt sleeves. She began to smirk. "Why, James? Something caught your eye?"

James frowned at her.

"I mean, it's nothing, really. He's a bit too talky, anyway." he said slightly quieter. Eleanor began to giggle. "Just a bit of a shame, is all. Seemed rather clever, quite easy on the eyes. Just my luck, of course, straight _and_ taken." 

"Oh, Jack isn't straight." Eleanor said with a grin. "Very taken, yes. But Max mentioned he's bisexual too. So, there's that bit of useless information, I suppose." 

He raised a single eyebrow at her, earning another laugh. 

"What a fucking luckless pair we are, then."

* * *

 

Well, not equally luckless, it would seem.

Eleanor had been approached by a pretty woman with blue streaks through her hair and tattoos spiralling around her arms, offering to buy her a drink from the market stalls. She had gone with her, and James was left to stand by the pub, watching them from afar, quite happily alone for a few minutes of peace. He took some pictures of the celebration to send to Billy, and got a selfie in return of the man giving a thumbs up. He could see a small gathering of people around his gay literature display, which made him chuckle. 

He looked back over to Eleanor and saw that she was now dancing with the girl. He stood and watched them jumping along to the bass, grinning and throwing their hair around. He heard a laugh next to him.

"Makes all of the struggle worth it, doesn't it?" an older woman asked. She had sidled up next to James at some point while he had been distracted. She looked kind enough, and wore a jumper that James would have guessed hand-knitted, in the colours of the rainbow. 

"Sorry, I don't quite follow." he said. She gave him a wrinkled grin, and raised the sign hanging down by her feet. Carefully painted on the board, inside a blue heart, were the words 'PROUD MOTHER!'. She pointed at a couple of young teenage boys holding hands at the drinks stall, near where Eleanor was still dancing. 

"Mine's the one in the green shirt. His boyfriend's dad didn't want them coming without a parent, said they're still practically babies. I don't mind coming with them, though. I'd guess yours is the blonde?"

James realised she had followed his eyes to Eleanor and the blue-haired girl, and then suddenly understood exactly what she was getting at.

"Neither of them, actually." He said, fighting the urge to grind his teeth. He understood that the woman had good intentions, but this was the second time now that the assumption had been made, and it was getting ridiculous. "I'm friends with the blonde, though. I'm gay, I'm here for me." and, once again, he tapped his badge. The woman gave a theatrical gasp.

"Oh, love, I'm so sorry! Beautiful girl, though, your friend. Very handsome yourself, actually. See you, lovey!" She tapped his arm and walked towards her son, just as Eleanor left her new friend to make her way back to James.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Eleanor breezed over to stand by the wall with him.

"Don't play coy, did you get a phone number or not?"

She bit her lip and nodded at James, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "She seemed nice enough, at least. Did you like her?"

"She was, yes. And yeah, I think so. I'll text her, at least. Melanie, that was her name."

"Melanie, hmm. She seem keen on you? I mean, she came over here, so we know the answer already, but..." James asked.

Eleanor squirmed under his arm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was rare to see the woman so shy about something, but James found it oddly endearing, coming from his usually brash friend.

"I think so? She said she was only down here on a work break, so she had to run off. Anyway, what were you up to with that woman?"

He coughed, scanning the nearby crowd for the older woman and her wards. The boys must have dragged her off to another part of the festival, because he couldn't see any of them in the vicinity, thank god. 

"Ah. Yes. Another misjudgment. For some reason, she also seemed to think I was your father, your _straight_ father at that. Is there something I'm missing here?"

Eleanor laughed. "Well, maybe you're giving off straight vibes today for some reason? Is it honestly bothering you that much?"

He hadn't honestly thought about what bothered him more, the implication by what was now multiple parties that he looked old enough to be Eleanor's father, or the assumption that he was heterosexual. He didn't come to Pride to be mistaken for a straight person, god damn it. 

Before he could begin to try and explain his thoughts to Eleanor, they were rudely interrupted.

"Oh _shit!_ "

James turned to try and find the source of the shout, but before he could see who had yelled he'd started to feel a mysterious damp sinking into the back of his shirt.

"Ahh fuck, I am _so_ sorry, let me just..." James briefly saw a mop of dark curls before they disappeared underneath a bright tank top. Eleanor had found her way to his other side, and appeared just as confused as he was.

"What the fuck is happening?" She asked, with more amusement in her tone than James was willing to offer up at the current situation. He felt a pair of large hands pressing the discarded shirt to his wet back.

"Err, well I was sort of dancing, and then some other people were dancing very close to me, and I sort of...tripped over and spilled my beer all over your dad?" the man said, the wince clear in his voice. 

James felt a growl grow from within his chest, and he could feel the blood rising to his face.

"Oh for fucks sake, I'm _not_ her fucking father, alright!" James turned and snatched the wet shirt from his current annoyance. The man stood, shocked and shirtless, eyebrows rising up to meet a rainbow sweatband on his forehead that James considered, frankly, fucking ridiculous.

"Look, _truly_ , I apologise. And I certainly didn't mean to ruin such a nice shirt." A smirk had found its way onto his face, and the stranger shook his curls back out of his eyes. He held a hand out. "John. And you are?"

"Leaving." James snarled, turning and storming off in the direction of the pub. He had already reached the bathroom before he realised that he was still holding onto the damp tank top. The bathroom bins were already overflowing, so he made the decision to try and be a halfway decent human being and dispose of it in a bin once he was outside. He hadn't meant to snap at the man, honestly. But he _had_ been a bit of a dick, even if it was unintentional. He washed the back of his own shirt to get the sour stench of warm beer off of himself, before drying himself off as best he could

When he returned outside to look for a bin, he instead found Eleanor chatting to the younger man, both quite animated and cheerful. El waved him over, and he walked towards them with a glare.

"How's your shirt looking?" The man asked, giving him a bright-eyed grin. James thrust his fist at his chest, holding out the now rather creased and abused tank top. 

"Better than yours, at any rate." He turned to Eleanor. "Been chatting, have we?"

"John here has just been telling me about the bar he works at. It's that new-ish gin place up by the cinema, John does food there."

“I do a great barbecue pork.” The curly haired man helpfully supplied.

“He said they’re doing a Pride party tonight, themed cocktails and the like. We could go, maybe?” Eleanor looked up at him through her lashes, smiling innocently. "I could text Max and her lot, get her to meet us there?"

"The more the merrier! Bring friends, partners, whatever. It's free entry until ten, and I can get you through the queue." John seemed insistent that they were to come along, and despite James' own misgivings about the idea, Eleanor looked so adorably enthusiastic about the situation that telling her 'no' was going to be an incredibly hard feat. 

He tried it anyway.

"I said I'd be back to close up the shop." he said, a bare-faced lie.

"He'll be happy to close up for you, I'm sure." Eleanor said cooly. "Please, come out tonight? For me?"

He sighed.

"Fine. I want to be back in bed by midnight, though."

Well, that bout of stubbornness had lasted all of thirty seconds. The pair of them beamed up at him, conniving little shits that they were.

"Excellent! That's settled!" John jumped up, clapped his hands together, and reached for his phone. "I'll give you my number and you can let me know how many you think might be coming, later on, and we'll be set! Dress to impress, sparkles and all."

"I wasn't going to go home and change, they'll let me in like this right?" Eleanor asked him. 

"Look, I'm just going to coat myself in glitter as soon as my shift finishes, so that's the set standard. Though your friend can feel free to borrow some if he'd like, be a good ally and all." He stood with his hands on his waist and dragged his gaze up and down James' body.

"I'm not a fucking ally, and I don't need any glitter, thank you very much." He was really starting to get irritated by this man, and now, joy of all joys, Eleanor had pledged them to spend the evening in his company.

"Wow. Not with that attitude, clearly." John shrugged. 

"No, I mean..." James sighed heavily. This man. This goddamn, fucking, irritating man. "I'm not an ally, I'm gay. I have a fucking badge, see?"

John leaned forward, over-acting out a fake squint as he looked at the pin. James rolled his eyes, slowly beginning to lose what little patience he'd had with the man to begin with.  

" _Right_ , that little thing? Of course, how could I have missed such a shining, gay beacon." he nodded, not even trying to hide his patronisation any longer.

"I'm sorry, do I not look gay enough to you? Does the current lack of cocks in my mouth make me look too straight?"

James regretted saying it as soon as the words had come out of his mouth. John raised an eyebrow and gave him the grin of the cat who had gotten not just the cream, but the entire dairy. He swore he heard Eleanor mumble something that sounded like _"Oh dear fucking Christ"_ under her breath, but he couldn't be entirely sure underneath the sound of the music. Before he could take the comment back, or try and dig himself out of the hole he was clearly tunneling downwards into, John had whipped off the headband and was coming towards him.

"Right. I'm sorry for calling you straight. From the bottom of my heart...my bad." He held one hand to his bare chest, the shirt now hanging out of his back pocket. "But...I certainly think you could stand to make it a little more obvious. May I?"

He held the headband towards James, not coming any closer. He actually appeared genuinely sorry for irritating him, wide blue eyes looking up at James, and for a moment he felt bad for lashing out at the man. He relaxed for a moment, releasing tension he hadn't even known he'd been holding, and gave in. 

"If you really must." James sighed. 

"Oh my god, I need to get a picture of this, this is going to be beautiful." Eleanor jumped happily on the spot, and John reached up to pull the headband down over his head. He gently untucked a lock of hair to fall over the band, coming up close to James' face. James was momentarily distracted watching John suck his bottom lip into his mouth as he worked on the hair, while he teetered on tip-toes to reach. He mentally saved that bit of information away to hold over John if the chance ever arose. He got the feeling it would definitely piss off John to be called a short-arse at given opportunity. 

"Perfect." John said, stepping away. "Now, give us a smile!" 

"Make it nice, alright?" Eleanor pouted up at James. 

"I'm not a total dick sometimes, you know." he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. She got into position and did a peace sign for the camera. James looked towards John's phone and smiled.

"Now...say 'cheese'!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) This has honestly been so much fun to write! This chapter is up a lot sooner than I expected, but then I've had some free time. I'm hoping to keep updating fairly regularly, but I'm back on a proper work schedule now, so I don't expect it will be as soon as this one has come.
> 
> b) THERE IS ART! I've been sending Leah snippets of this as I've been working on it, and she's been sending me progress shots as she's been working on the art, and I've been terribly excited for it and this is our first collab! It's the photo that John takes at the end of the chapter, obviously! http://betanoiz.tumblr.com/post/162446375687/betanoiz-its-the-last-day-of-pride-and-im


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drinks keep coming, there's an abundance of glitter, and James Flint refuses to approve of Eleanor's drunken reasoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been up a lot sooner, but then I started Whitechapel and I marathonned it and shirtless Joe Chandler put a dampener on any productivity. Enjoy!

John hadn't stayed long after the photographs had been taken, with the excuse that he had picked up the earlier day shift at work to allow him to actually attend the bar's party night, rather than hearing it all happen from the kitchen. He'd dragged them both into several pouty selfies which James had been unable to dodge out of, but point-blank refused to pose for. He'd also used sending the pictures as an excuse to get Eleanor's phone number, with the added bonus of being able to meet up later in the evening. So now, having promised John that they would make an appearance at the party, Eleanor had dragged him back to the shop for a quick change of clothes and to freshen up. She had already messaged Max to agree that they would all meet at the bar. James had left her to reapply her now-smudged face paint, and went to grab a clean t-shirt.

Once he'd changed, he went to check up on Eleanor and found her still in the bathroom, carefully painting the lines back onto her face. She looked him up and down, and tutted.

"Um, no, I don't think so. Go back and get something proper on." she said, her mouth turned downwards into a sneer.

"There's nothing wrong with this, and I'm wearing it." He batted her away as she reached out to grab at the shirt. 

"You were practically  _ordered_ to dress to impress, and I'll be damned if I let you leave this house looking like you're about to take a walk to the corner shop for a newspaper and a pint of milk, for fucks sake." She squeezed past him and headed for the bedroom.

"I'm sorry, but who exactly am I dressing to impress?" James snorted. "We're going to be surrounded by half-dressed hipster kids, and we've already said that Jack is out of the question."

"Our new friend John Silver, of course. Not that you'd need to do much at all, really." came her muffled voice from inside of James' wardrobe, in which she was currently standing and inspecting various shirts. "What do you think of him, anyway? You like him?"

"God, no! What kind of fucking question is that?" James sputtered. She hopped out of the wardrobe with a fitted white shirt in hand.

"Well, he certainly took a shine to you." She held the shirt up to James' chest and scrunched her face up in consideration. Apparently approving of her own decision, she reached for the hem of his t-shirt.

"No he doesn't, don't be ridiculo- _would you_ just leave me alone? I'm a grown man, I can dress myself." he slapped her hands away, but grabbed the hanger from her. 

Eleanor stood back, her hands on her hips. She gave an irritated huff.

"Look, okay, he was flirting. Or trying to, at least. He's definitely interested in you, at any rate."

James felt his jaw click, and resisted the urge to throw the hanger back against the wall.

"He's probably like that with everyone, how do you know he's not the type to just shag anything with a pulse? Because I _definitely_ suspect he's that type." He buttoned himself up into the new shirt, smoothing down the material with his hands. He wouldn't mention it to her, but Eleanor had somehow landed on one of the only shirts that James really quite liked the look of himself in. If he were, in theory, going to try and 'dress to impress', as she had said, then this would definitely have been one of the shirts to do it in.

"No no, he _told_ me he liked you. Asked if we were together, seeing how you'd yelled in the street about not being my father." She threw him a disapproving look, remembering the scene that had been made. "Then he asked what you did, were you single...I think he was working up to ask me if you were gay when you came back over. Oh, and he asked for your number when he was getting mine. Told him he'd have to work you over for that. No point in playing cupid if I can't have a little fun, is there?"

Playing _what_ now?

James stared at her, mouth ajar. He had known she was going to try and get him to talk to someone, maybe go on a couple of dates, but this? Trying to set him up with a young, over enthusiastic, and yes, okay, really rather good looking lad for an encounter that would more than likely end up in nothing more than a one night stand and a trip to the sexual health clinic? Besides, the man would probably annoy him to death before he could even get his trousers off.

"I'm not just looking for a quick shag, you know." he quickly interjected. "I do actually want someone who's going to be interesting, and interest _ed_ , and talk to me about culture and hobbies and books, that sort of thing, if I'm going to have anyone at all."

She threw her hands up in the air, making a frustrated grunt along the way.

"Well, how do you know he wouldn't? You barely know him!"

"That's exactly right, I barely know him. This is the problem. I assumed we were only going tonight because you were interested in him anyway!" he said, coming to stand up close in front of her. 

"What? Oh, god no, he's _nothing_ like the kind of man I'd normally go for." she said, wrinkling her nose. "Besides, I quite like the sound of this Melanie girl, and before you ask, yes, I _have_ checked, and no she can't come tonight."

She'd all but pushed him into a corner on the subject. James' eyes drifted to the left of Eleanor, staring out of the window at the clouds rolling by, silently trying to buy himself time for an answer. Eleanor reached a hand up, nudging his shoulder gently to bring back his attention. 

"Look, you're available. You're handsome." she said, giving him a harder shove when he dared to roll his eyes. "You're also lonely, and you have too much free time, and you're scared of online dating, correct? He's available, he's interested in you, what's the harm in getting to know him a little?" She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You deprive yourself of too much, James. Just let me do my fucking job, as your friend, will you please?"

James looked at her, this woman who had made a place for herself in his life, this wickedly clever, cunning person who cared about him and his happiness, his friend. Standing in his flat, on her way to being slightly-drunk in the mid afternoon, and wanting more than anything to help him. And he sighed.

"Fine. I'll try and get to know him. If it all ends up disastrously wrong, it's your fault."

She grabbed both of his hands, clasping them both between her marginally smaller ones, and gave him a conspiratory grin.

"Excellent. Don't fuck this up, James."

* * *

 

Standing in the queue for the bar, having grabbed some food and a few more drinks on the way back from the shop, it became apparent that John Silver had invited them to attend one of the hottest after-parties of the evening. The queue skewed towards the young, with people still clutching flags in their hands, and a pile of discarded placards in the alleyway next to the bar. Plenty must have come straight from the festival, as he saw many faces with paint dripping down, melted by the heat. He also spotted many others who had indeed dressed to impress, more darks and metallics than had been in the parade, and an overbearing amount of glitter. Indeed, when they saw Max, Anne, and Jack approaching, they saw that they had dressed for the occasion. Draped in coordinating rich, black fabrics, although Max had added golden jewellery, and gold shimmering powders to her cheekbones and eyelids. She greeted them both with kisses on the cheeks.

"You know, I've heard it's quite the exclusive place, particularly tonight." she mused, passing an arm through James' elbow with a sense of familiarity. He hummed at the intrusion, but made no move to remove her.

"Yes, well, quite. Eleanor says that we only have to show the doorman a text from her new friend, the cook, and we'll be straight in." They were only a handful of people away from the front of the queue now, and James could see the doorman, a tall, bearded man with scars across the side of his face. Several groups had already been denied entry, some for fighting, or being too wasted already. One memorable younger lad had decided to try and talk back to the man, and had left the street less than a minute later, with a newfound limp.

"Hmm, yes. I'm eager to meet this new friend of hers. She says you met him only today?" Her glance towards James was carefully measured, but he could tell that Eleanor had mentioned his attraction to James to her. She'd probably been asking for advice, James remembered that when they were dating, Max had been quite the seductress. 

"Met him at Pride, yes. I'm sure you'll get along with him brilliantly." They shuffled forward with the queue, and Eleanor stepped towards the doorman with her phone in hand.

The man eyed her and the phone with suspicion, his stony face frozen in what seemed to be a permanent frown.

"I have a message from John Silver, the cook here. He said to show you this, said it should guarantee our entry?" She thrust the screen below his face, and he grunted as he read. He looked up, and studied the group.

"Five of you. Silver's said so, has he?" He met James' eyes, and then looked at Jack to do the same thing. A challenge. Any excuse to tell them where to go shove their invite. James looked to Eleanor to make sure she was keeping her temper even. After a few seconds, he reached into his heavy jacket, and took out five passes. He handed them all to Eleanor, and without saying another word, nodded them into the bar.

The walls were draped in rainbow streamers, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and disco lights spun, illuminating the busy dance floor. Booths were set out to one side of the room, and when Eleanor showed their passes to the bartender, he escorted the group to a spare booth and brought them a bucket of champagne.

"Well, your new friend certainly carries his benefits!" Jack said, taking the initiative to pour out the champagne. "Would he, by chance, like to expand his social circle by three?"

"You say this as if you do not already get many benefits yourself, hmm?" Max commented, holding out a glass. "You know, just as well as I, that we could have taken this place by storm with no assistance. If we had the girls with us." she added.

James had placed himself between Eleanor and Max, and had an arm thrown around each. Anne was curled against Max's side, her legs draped over Jack's skinny thighs. The bottle had just about catered to a glass each, but they had all already had enough alcohol that they had easily fallen into a comfortable casualness.

"What girls?" James asked, suddenly curious about these 'benefits' Max had mentioned.

"I run a small modelling agency, girls for magazine covers, high street shops, all kinds of work. My girls are very profitable, up-and-coming models who already possess the beauty needed for the industry, but lack the fame or direction." She read a cocktail menu as she talked, scanning the list. "I help them achieve their dreams. Jack is in the business with me also."

"Accounts, promoting the brand name, that sort of thing." Jack added, swiping a business card from the inside of his jacket. James inspected the glossy stock, embossed with the word 'PROVIDENCE' in gold script, on a background of palm trees. "Anne is, how shall we say...somewhat of a boon to the whole gig also. On paper, she's my assistant. Off paper, she protects the girls from the unsavory sorts among the modelling circuit."

"Handsy bastards. Photographers who try and get 'em to take their knickers off when they think no-one else is about." Anne's voice carried over the music. She held Max's hand in hers, and was stroking the bejeweled fingers. "Ain't so cocky when I'm around."

"We want our girls to feel safe, obviously. But, Providence is known for having beautiful girls, and that can be very beneficial for ourselves, of course. Speaking of which, this next round is on me, so choose carefully." She waved the cocktail menu in the air. "You can all thank me for my generosity later!"

* * *

 

By the time John had texted Eleanor that he would be out soon, just after he'd changed out of his uniform, the table was littered with all manner of shot glasses, pitchers, and flutes, evidence of the steady flow of drinks and, inevitably, conversation. Max and Jack had talked more about their industry, James had mentioned a little (mostly aimed at Jack) about the bookshop, and Eleanor had gone on a long winded rant about her father's irresponsible attitude to business, which was news to nobody at the table. Anne chimed in with the occasional comment, but seemed content to slump against her lovers, remaining lazily tactile. Max had questioned James about John, confirming his suspicion that Eleanor had filled her in, and he did little more than roll his eyes at the woman. 

"Glad you started without me!" John yelled over the music as he approached the table. He carried a tray filled with even more cocktails, and was once again shirtless. He had, as promised, coated his chest, shoulders, and toned abdomen with sparkly purple glitter, a tub of which seemed to be on the drinks tray.

"Mr. Silver, I presume?" Jack reached out to help him with the drinks. "The man responsible for allowing us in to drink the establishment dry?"

"That indeed! And you are?"

Introductions were made and drinks were passed around, and Eleanor had given James a nudge and a not-wholly subtle point at the glittery abs. Max caught the look and giggled, giving John and appraising look up and down. 

"Your outfit, it suits you well!" she said to him, giving him a sly smile. He laughed and held the pot out. 

"Help yourself! Had a feeling some of you would need the extra adornment." and he winked at James. Max declined, reasoning that she didn't want to ruin her own make up. Anne, surprisingly, was the first to dip her fingers into the pot, before crawling into Jack's lap and swiping the gel up his cheekbones with a grin. He slumped with a sigh and left her to tend to her canvas.

"Now, listen, Flint..." Eleanor said next to him, words slurring slightly. She had been drinking consistently since morning, and any lesser woman would have been out cold by now, but not Eleanor. James had seen her drink men three times her size under the table, and in fact the only person he'd seen match her skill had been Charles Vane (which always ended in a fight of some kind, at one point some of Vane's friends had got involved and a 'minor stabbing' had occurred, although Eleanor refused to remember or acknowledge that she'd harmed his friend the next morning.). She insisted that her strong stomach was one of the few positive things she'd inherited from her father. "...you listen right here. You're going to get some of that stuff on you, understood?" She leaned over Max, stealing the tub from Anne who had sneered back at her, and grabbed some of the goop.

"I did warn you, you know!" John laughed as James was coated in the glitter. He glared at the man, who had taken Eleanor's other side with a cheeky grin.

"So, Mr. Silver." Max said, leaning over James' lap to speak with the man. "Tell us about yourself." she purred. The rest of the table tilted in their seats to listen to what John had to answer. He laughed, seeming to revel in the attention.

"Well, um, I split my work here and at a clothes shop in town. Live in a flat overlooking the river with some housemates, they're alright lads. Know how to play the guitar, and a little bit of flute. I used to speak a little Spanish, pero ya no es tan bueno." He popped an olive in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at his guests. James was, admittedly, intrigued about the Spanish. He was quite fluent himself, and he decided that it would probably be quite amusing to see if John struggled with conversational Spanish. "Oh, and I'm a Scorpio. Anything else?" he added.

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Max asked, eyes wide with faked innocence. James knew perfectly well that Eleanor would have filled her in on that little bit of information.

"Neither, single for the moment. Open to either, though. Split from my ex-girlfriend little over a year ago, but we're on good terms. I get a lot of offers here, but it's all futile really. Doesn't seem to be much of a point behind it, and I can get myself into enough trouble all by myself without sleeping with strangers. What's the point in it?"

"Oh, I don't know, fun?" Jack suggested, as Anne snorted into her beer. 

They continued to interrogate him, sat in their little booth away from the main hubbub of raucous activity, on everything from his music tastes (rock, indie, folk, newer than most of the stuff James liked but still with some crossover, bands he joked about seeing play small pubs when he was little out of school), favourite foods (seafood and deep south, and when Eleanor had whispered in James' ear that he could definitely take John to the Thai place around the corner from the bookshop for some good seafood, he gracefully ignored her), and even found out that he got a nipple piercing for his eighteenth birthday, which had long since closed over (much to the disappointment of the entire table, James begrudgingly included). The man was incredibly likable, that much was apparent. The whole table seemed to warm to him enormously through the progression of the evening. At one point, Jack shifted in his seat, searching through the pockets of his black leather jacket.

"I need a break for a moment, if you'll excuse me. Gentlemen, do you smoke?"

John nodded, getting out of the booth and retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his skinny jeans. 

"Flint here doesn't, but he'll come for some fresh air, I'm sure?" Eleanor supplied, already moving out of the booth to allow James past before he could answer. He gave her a shove as he moved past, and she slumped next to Max in a fit of giggles.

"Coming, darling?" Jack asked Anne, who wrapped an arm around Max's neck and shuffled further into her lap, jostling Eleanor on the other side.

"Nah, think I'll be fine here." she said, glaring out of the corner of her eye.

The men skirted around the dance floor, avoiding the crowds and aiming for the wide open back patio. The summer night air cooled their skin as they walked out, and the tables dotted around the garden were almost entirely occupied, though the energy felt nowhere near as wild as it did inside. Wooden beams criss-crossed above the garden, and fairy lights tangled with ivy, dangling overhead and draping down the brick walls. James decided it felt rather magical, contrasted with the stuffy bar inside. 

James hummed as they found a small table with two shabby-chic armchairs. "Not too bad out here, considering."

John gave him a bright grin, propping himself up against the brick wall and inviting the other two men to take the chairs. "Well, you'd have me to thank for that as well. It was little more than a back alley when I arrived, and then I may have given them some design tips. Worked a charm, as you can see." He fumbled with a plastic lighter from his back pocket, thumb flicking over and over until he swore under his breath and gave up.

"Care for a light?" Jack offered, reaching up with a lit metal zippo. John leaned over and lit his cigarette, giving Jack a thumbs up afterwards. "You know, you could definitely get in on the industry." he said, considering John carefully. "You've got the whole package, the hair, the body, the face...you'd do well for business."

"As in, yours?" John asked, taking a drag, looking every inch the rockstar model that Jack seemed to be pitching him as. One knee bent, shoe resting on the wall, wayward curls falling from behind his ears, and a hand on the waistband of his low-slung jeans, thumb hooked in a belt loop. James was big enough to admit he looked quite the picture. Clearly, Jack had noticed so too. He wondered how Anne would have reacted to seeing it, had she come outside with them, or whether Jack's intent was purely business orientated.

"I don't see why not. I can broach the subject with Max after the weekend, we've never had a male model before. There isn't as much demand, but it's there, certainly. You'd probably get particular types of work, I can't exactly see tailors trying to get you posing in tuxedos, not with your hair at least." Jack commented, eyes flicking to the dark nest. Suddenly, James remembered a particular item he'd held in his back pocket since leaving the shop.

"I forgot to give you this back." he said hurriedly, taking the wrapped up sweatband out of his pocket. John unfolded the material, eyes wide, and laughed.

"My gay sweatband! Of course!" he said, stretching the band between two thumbs. "You can keep it, if you like, it looked good on you."

"Not sure it would be much use, I'm considering cutting it all off, to be honest with you." James said, running his fingers through the coppery locks. John went slack jawed for a moment, and even Jack shook his head, tutting a little.

"That's a terrible idea!" John finally said. "I'm sure it would violate several laws, ruining that hair, anyhow."

He gave James another one of those blinding smiles, all perfect teeth and bright eyed. James raised an eyebrow, wanting to question his shameless bantering but not quite knowing the words to do so, his brain remaining rather uncooperative. Luckily, he was saved a reaction from the sudden appearance of a large group of teenagers coming out into the smoking area, cheering and waving various baby-pink sex toys around.

"Ah, I see somebody won the raffle." John commented, eyes following a green haired girl who was currently spinning a pair of fluffy handcuffs on her finger. 

"A raffle?" Jack asked, looking rather amused as he shuffled his chair away from two boys who seemed to be trying to act out a magic duel, each brandishing a glass dildo and yelling curses.

"Oh, yeah, there's another room upstairs, smaller dance floor, loads of little tables selling stuff like t-shirts, shot glasses, wristbands, all with rainbows on. Then there's a few fun games and stuff, pin the tail on the donkey, guess how many Skittles in a jar." John ignored the youths and chewed his thumbnail absentmindedly. "The raffle was my idea, as were the prizes."

They drank their cocktails and continued to watch the shrieking teens, hardly old enough to drink. Jack mumbled something about 'such a waste' as a dildo was suctioned to a table and used for a game of impromptu ring-toss.

"Oi, Jack!" Anne poked her head out of the club and shouted. "She wants to dance, you coming or not?"

Max stood next to her, clinging to an arm and giggling. Jack rolled his eyes and crushed his cigarette under an expensive suede heel.

"Duty calls, it would seem. Try not to have too much fun in my absence."

He followed the women into the sea of lights and bodies, leaving John to drop down into the seat he had just vacated. He twisted the chair towards James, and leaned forward on his elbows, the strings of fairy lights surrounding him adding to the twinkle in his eye.

"So, tell me. James Flint, a handsome, successful man like you, there must be a story there." 

James threw him a look, and John grinned into his drink. "Come on, there must be something. Give a man just a morsel of information. Anything?"

He thought in silence for a moment, John tapping his cigarette next to him. 

"Alright. When I was a boy, I hated my name." John looked to him for an explanation, so James sighed and continued. "Too many other boys named James, half the bloody class was James-something. My father said I could always go by Jimmy. Hated that, too. Bloody  _Jimmy_ , of all things. Wanted to be something else. Someone else." He fiddled with his shirt cuff as he spoke. He wished for a moment that one of the others would come and rescue him, but from his position he could see that Jack had joined Anne and Max back on the dance floor, the three of them shamelessly grinding to the rhythm in their own little universe, and he assumed Eleanor had escaped to the bathroom as she was nowhere to be seen. "I grew to it, obviously. Think everyone does, grows into their own name. Enough people come into your life, give the name meaning behind it, weigh it down with history every time it slips from their mouth..." James realised with a start that he'd gone over his limit. He very rarely drank to the point of losing control, but he also didn't usually come anywhere near talking about his own past. "It goes without saying, but the first time you call me Jimmy, or Jim, will be the last time you have five fingers on each hand. Understand?"

John gave a nervous laugh. "Right. Got it. No nicknames. What about surnames, are those allowed? I get Silver a lot."

"Eleanor calls me Flint sometimes. Usually only when she's pissed off at me. But yes, if you must." He was glad for the change in conversation tone. 

"You know what's kind of weird? I once had a budgie named James, when I was a kid. Had a bright green plumage, beautiful thing. Think I must have been around ten or eleven, maybe? I got it afte-" and then he stopped abruptly. He frowned, and then pulled the cigarette back to his lips. James didn't want to press. It was clear that John had equally found himself at a point where the alcohol had taken his loose lips to a place where he wasn't so comfortable. It was odd to see the spirited man turn so grim so quickly, his eyes darkened and drained the light from his face. James didn't like it one bit.

"I once had a cat called Waggles, if that's any consolation." James offered after a period of quiet between them. John barked a sudden laugh, stubbing out his cigarette.

"Waggles. Good grief. A fine warrior, I'm sure."

"Oh, she was. Fucking vicious thing, really. Tabby cat, used to leave headless mice by the back door." He was secretly a little pleased that he'd managed to pull John back from relative melancholy so easily, his own personal form of cold comfort didn't always sit well with new acquaintances. Another thing that made it harder to date, he just didn't...gel, really, with a lot of people.

He stood up, brushing his shirt down as he did so. John stayed seated, but looked up to him with wide eyes.

"I'm going to get some iced water from the bar, try and make tomorrow morning a little easier. You want anything?"

John shook his head and shifted in his seat, throwing a knee over an armrest. 

"Thank you, but I'm good. You should probably go and check up on Eleanor, though. Dread to think what kind of trouble that girl could get into."

He patted John on one tanned shoulder, leaving him sat underneath the canopy of lights. He walked back into the club, instantly swamped by the body heat of the dancing patrons. On his way to the bar, he saw Jack withdraw himself from the tangle of limbs and, seeing James, waved and made a beeline for the bar with him. They area was swarmed with customers, so they took to the far side of the bar and made a space for themselves near the wall. James took in the sweat running down Jack's temples, mixing with glitter on the way past his sharp cheekbones, and looked behind him to see the girls still on the dance floor, although Anne's face was now buried in Max's neck as she clutched the redhead close, Max's head thrown back in ecstasy under the disco lights.

"Recovered yet?" James asked as Jack propped himself up with the bar. 

"They take a lot to keep up with, you know." Jack panted. He chuckled as the man caught his breath.

"Oh, I know. What are you having? I'll buy this one." 

The bustle of patrons queuing for the bar seemed to shamble sideways, and James looked to see three tall, muscled men, tattoos spanning wide biceps, had pushed their way to the middle of the bar. People grumbled as they were moved, and the bar man's face turned stony as the largest one leaned over the bar towards him.

"Tell me where the fuck Pretty Boy is." the biggest one, with a buzzcut and a scar across one eyebrow, growled at the man. He crossed his arms, shrugging one shoulder at the thug.

"Dunno. Ain't on shift tonight." he replied, voice steady. "You better leave sharp-ish though, Hands'll be on his way soon."

The gang leered for a moment longer, before the leader pushed himself up from the bar, and the three of them disappeared into the crowd. 

"The fuck was that?" Jack whispered as the queue shifted back into their places. 

"Nothing good." he responded, watching the bar man scan the club nervously as he served drinks. By the time they had gotten to the front of the queue, the door man with the scars had come back to check on him, handing him a security radio. 

Heading back to their booth, where Max and Anne had retired from their grinding, the men were accosted by Eleanor.

"Honestly, they've got hundreds, I just think it would be a good idea..." she babbled as she pulled a strip of bright blue condoms from her handbag. James opened and closed his mouth several times in the space of time it took for the scene before him to properly reach his brain. He connected the dots, shut his eyes, and counted to five very, _very_ slowly.

When he opened them, Eleanor held two more strips.

He could feel a tick developing in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He turned to find Jack for mental support, but he had already taken his seat back next to Anne, who had stolen his attention back with a kiss, hand drifting up his thigh. They were hopeless, the lot of them, James decided. He vaguely heard Eleanor prattling on over the music.

"...bubblegum, peach, glow in the dark, just handing them out, it's brilliant! There's blueberry, ribbed, and coconut, I got them in a medium to save guesswork, although I _did_ try to get a look when I was sat next to him but it's very hard to tell in the dark, even in jeans that tight." She grabbed a half-full bottle of wine from the table, swigging as she spoke. "Of course, that's assuming he'd be topping, but I wasn't prepared to think about the other alternative, as that would mean trying to size up your cock and honestly, I'm not nearly drunk enough to have any thoughts pertaining to your cock, that's just disgusting." 

"Jesus Christ..." James muttered darkly as his plight continued to be ignored by the rest of the table. He wasn't sure if John coming out of the shadows to join them at that point would have been a blessing or a blight.

"...and like I said, that would mean making assumptions about your preferences, which feels incredibly intrusive."  
  
"Oh does it now?" he asked sarcastically. 

He managed to swipe the bottle back from her, and she looked up at him with a pout. He swallowed the remaining wine down as her face morphed from relatively sweet and innocent, to the cold, callous look that he knew to associate with her harsh business decision making skills, putting fear into the hearts of all those who worked with Guthrie & Co.

"Right. I'm going for a piss, look after her will you?" He pushed Eleanor into the seat next to Max, who wrapped her spare arm around her and nodded. 

He escaped the dance floor area into a long corridor near the bar, keeping an eye out for the toilets. He turned a corner, craning his head around and seeing only doors marked for storage. He assumed he'd gotten lost in the staff area. Turning back, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. He was about to walk back to the bar when a hand reached out of the darkness and pulled him close.

"What the fuck?" he hissed, tumbling against a warm body pressed to the wall. He felt curls tickling underneath his nose.

"Just shut up, alright?" John whispered, tugging him impossibly closer and ducking down so that James' wide torso hid his head from sight. He knew that from their positioning, John would be practically invisible, but his own stance would look rather compromising. He tilted slightly his head and saw the three men from the bar earlier on, now coming out of a door further down the corridor. He felt John shrink beside him, and came to a sudden conclusion.

"Ahhh. _You're_ Pretty-Boy. Got it." he murmured, watching out of the corner of his eye as the thugs stomped down closer towards them, throwing open doors on their way. James figured that they had made it close enough to the bar area that they would look convincingly enough like a couple seeking a quiet spot. He felt a rush of warm air as John let out a low laugh near his chest.

"Well now, normally I'd be more appreciative but now really isn't the time."

"No, I mean, that's what they were calling you, when they were looking for you at the bar." James defended himself, trying not to notice the hard lines of the body pressing against him. The width of John's bare torso radiated an overpowering heat, and he could feel the slight tremble in his posture.

"They got as far as the bar? Jesus, I'm going to give Hands hell when I see him, he's supposed to _stop_ this shit from happening!" John fired back. His eyes glanced up as he tried to get a quick look at the thugs, and James saw two bands of electric blue illuminated for a moment underneath the glow of a flickering neon sign. He heard the steps approach them, and without thinking he threw his arms around John's neck.

It wasn't fair, wasn't fucking fair _at all_ , he decided, that he was so close that he had felt, rather than heard, the sharp intake of breath from the other man. They stayed silent as the muscled men walked past them, one of the gang giving an infuriating whistle as he saw the two tangled by the wall. James' hands were practically tangled in among the infuriating curls, resting on John's nape, and he could feel his pulse there, and in the press of his chest, and in the quickening of breath-

They heard the door slam, and then the whole corridor was silent, save the thumping bass of the music in the next room. They stood for another moment, before John's hands flew to his waist as he stood on tip toes to look over James' shoulder.

"Think it's safe?"

James took the opportunity to step away from the man, pushing his hair back with one hand. The corridor glowed eerily green, reflections of exit signs on industrial concrete, and he could see John looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He straightened and turned towards him.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" James asked, gesturing towards the door that the gang had escaped through.

"They seem to think I owe them money." John explained, hands on his hips. He was chewing his bottom lip between his teeth, something James assumed to be a nervous tick. He decided he'd be nervous too if men like those were after him for money.

"And do you?"

"Not technically, no."

"Right, then." James paused, watching John look worried. "Good luck with whatever that is, anyway."

John let out a short laugh. "Thanks. I'll uh, I'll try. If you never see me again, just know that I've gone on the run to the Bahamas."  
  
James snorted, and it seemed to put the younger man at ease after the encounter with the gang. He'd have to try and get more information out of him, at some point. If he saw him again.

"I should probably find Eleanor. It's getting late." he said, shuffling where he stood. The smile slid off of John's face slightly as he nodded.

"Of course. And, uh, sorry about that second shirt. You're not having much luck with me, are you?" John laughed slightly awkwardly. James looked down, and saw that the front of his shirt was covered in purple glitter, evidence from being pressed up close to Silver. He silently prayed that Eleanor would be too drunk in the taxi back home to notice and make any assumptions.

"I'm going to have to start sending you dry cleaning bills, you know. You're a fucking menace." James teased. He grinned and raised an eyebrow at James.

"Well then, let's hope I don't have to run off to the Bahamas. Be awfully expensive postage." he said cheekily. "Anyway, I should be off too. Had enough excitement for the night, I think." John opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it, seemingly torn. "So, I'll uh, see you around anyhow?"

"I'm sure you will." James replied, giving him a tight lipped smile. John walked towards the door, patting him with a large hand on the chest as he walked past. He stood in the doorway and looked back at James, giving him a wink before disappearing off into the night.

"Well, fuck." James rasped once the door had closed on him. He threw his head back, rolling his neck as he closed his eyes tight. He could feel pressure beginning to form behind his forehead. "Fuck indeed."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to chat on tumblr! http://princessprouvaire.tumblr.com/


End file.
